


Tell Me More

by laraceleste



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, Marinette Todd AU, Partial Identity Reveal, brief mentions of abuse, caline bustier salt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22336396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laraceleste/pseuds/laraceleste
Summary: If you have a brother and he dies, do you stop saying you have one? Or are you always a sister, even when the other half of the equation is gone?
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire & Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Jason Todd, Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug & Lê Chiến Kim & Nino Lahiffe
Comments: 37
Kudos: 964





	1. Chapter 1

Marinette, even after Jason dies, still carries around his picture in her wallet— the wallet is old and warn and covered in pink duck tape because Jason had won it for her at a Friendly’s claw machine when she had been eight —and no one’s ever commented on the picture she keeps in the laminated part of the wallet where her ID is and she’s grateful for it because what is she supposed to say when someone asks?

_That’s my brother? That’s my dead brother? That’s Jason?_

She doesn’t know what to say about Jason until she meets Tikki. The thumb sized godling is the first person— creature —Marinette tells about Jason since he died. It’s as the news in her room is playing another clip from the Stoneheart diabolical; Ladybug— she —is telling the moth made face of Hawkmoth to suck it and Tikki, as Marinette sits on the wheely desk chair in her room turns to Tikki.

“My brother was a superhero.” Tikki smiled,

“Really?” Marinette hummed.

“His name was Jason. He was older than me, he was six when I was born.” Tikki nodded and fluttered in front of Marinettes face. “Back in Gotham, where we’re from, there’s this guy named Batman, he saves the city, and the world a lot. My brother was his sidekick, Robin.” 

“That’s amazing Marinette!” Tikki looped-de-looped in the air, Marinette smiled. 

“It’s why I’m okay with being Ladybug, if Jason was given the Miraculous he wouldn’t hesitate to save people.” It’s why she had, she wasn’t Jason. 

“Why did he stop being a hero?”

“He died,” Marinette told Tikki stopped smiling. After five thousand years Tikki had gotten to know death quite well; it never stopped hurting when one of her bugs or one of Plaggs kitten passed to early, and it never stopped hurting when she had to watch her wielders mourn those they had lost.

“If he was half a great as you are Marinette I’m sure he was amazing,” she tells the human girl and Marinette smiled.

“He was great, really, better than anyone else in the world!”

“Well if you say so!” Both of them giggled.

**…**

Jason had broken into the Dupain-Cheng apartment, it was Marinette’s first night at her new foster home and she was terrified. Other kids on the street had told her and Jason what the foster homes they had run from where like. Most where horrible at face value, dirty and overcrowded and abusive. It showed how much Gotham’s Child Services recalled cared about it’s wards. 

But other homes they had ran from hadn’t been like that. Some were nice and clean and it in those homes that you really had to be on your guard.

It was why Jason had scaled the fire escape on the side of the apartment building and used the piece of broken metal he had picked up in the alleyway to shimmy open the window in Marinette’s room.

“Jason!” Marinette, whos bed was under the window, cheered. She was in her Princess pajamas and her stuffed bear that Jason had stolen from somewhere when she had been little laid next to her bed, clean for the first time in years.

“Mari!” His voice was hushed and he gathered his sister in his arms and squeezed her tightly. When they pulled away she frowned; Jason hadn’t had a bruised cheek when Mrs. Thomas had separated the day before.

“Jay,” she frowned, “What happened to your face?” She didn’t touch the bruise but Jason did, placing his hand over it, ever so gently, and turned away. He turned back just as quick as he had turned away, a forced smile on his face.

“Rude, didn’t you know you’re not supposed to call someone ugly?” Marinette tried not to giggled—she did, but she had tried hard not to —because that’s not what she had meant and he knew it.

“That’s not what I mean,” she told him, she leaned her head so it rested against his chest.

“Do you like your new home Jason?” she wondered.

“No,” Jason told her, “I miss you too much.” There were other reasons why besides just that; the over crowded half-way home he had been placed with had boys Jason had run into before, and who none were happy to see again. 

The door opened and both Jason and Marinette whipped to see who was coming into the room so late at night; Jason gripped the sharp piece of metal and saw a woman.

She was the same age as most adults; her black hair was up in a bun and though her green robe ended at her calf the edges of her cloudy pajama bottoms ended well past her feet.

She didn’t scream or look surprised, not did she seem angry and about to fly off the handle and into a rage. She smiled, actually.

“You must be Jason,” she said, “I’m Sabine.” Jason didn’t put away his weapon, nor did he stop glaring guardedly at the woman. Marinette pressed her face into his back, her nose met his spine and Jason pressed back against her. 

His chin tipped up.

“Marinette told my husband and I all about you earlier,” she leaned against the door frame. “Jason’s the best big brother ever she kept saying,” Marinette hummed in agreement behind him, “It’s nice to put a face to the name.”

“I won’t let you hurt Marinette,” Jason told Sabine seriously, and Sabine chortled,

“I don’t want to hurt Marinette, neither dose Tom.”

“That’s what our old man used to say too.” Whenever he had to discipline Jason or Marinette Willis Todd would always say that before hitting them. Him— Willis Todd would always say that whenever he would hit him —Jason when he was around would never let his father hurt Marinette. Sabine frowned, her eyes crinkled and her arms wrapped around her middle.

“I—would you rather sleep in here or on the couch?” Jason blinked.

“What?”

“If I kick you out you’re just going to stay out there on the fire esacpe all night, aren’t you?” Jason nodded and Sabine, with her arms still wrapped around her middle smiled, “I don’t want you sleeping outside in the cold, so if you want you can sleep on the couch, or I could get the extra blankets and stuff Tom and I have and set up a nice bed on the floor in here.” Jason’s mouth fell open for a moment before looking at the wood floor.

“In here, uh-er, please.” Sabine beamed.

“I’ll be back in a moment.”

**...**

She had told Chat about Jason; when the alley cat had brought up his mother with his shoulders hunched over and his ears pressed back against his hair. After he had asked her if she had ever lost anyone she knew she couldn’t lie to him so she had nodded.

“My brother,” she said, “And my parents,” she added as an after thought because she always tried not to think about Catherine or Willis Todd. She could feel Chat looking at her with wide eyes and parted lips, “I’m adopted—technically I’m an orphan but I don’t know if that title still stays after you’ve got a new set of parents, you know?” 

He hadn’t, the sad look in her eyes had told her that much. Not many people did know; when she had asked Jason after Sabine and Tom had adopted her he had shrugged and told her it didn’t matter because orphan or not, adopted parents or not, she had him.

She didn’t have him anymore though.

“They didn’t all die together or anything,” she wanted to make that clear, that she hadn’t been left to fend for herself because Jason would have fought the Gods themselves before leaving her on the Gotham streets alone, “My dad, he took off— died, maybe, who knows —when I was five, and my mom overdosed after that so for the longest time, before child services found us, it was just me and Jason.”

“Jason’s a really cool name,” Chat told her and with tears in her eyes Marinette laughed, nodding because it was. Jason who loved to read had taken pride in his name when he had been alive; before the streets, back in their shared bedroom he would pull out an old book he had swiped from a library or bookshop and read the Greek Myths to her.

Jason’s had always been their favorite because it gave them hope.

“He was the coolest. He took care of me, from the moment I was brought home from the hospital he made sure I was taken care of.” No matter what the coast of doing so was to him or anyone else. He had always made it clear he would let the world burn before letting something happen to her.

“He sounds cool.”

“He was miraculous,” and Chat laughed.

**…**

The first time she had ever introduced Jason to someone she had been six and Sally Jefferson, a girl from her class, wanted to know if she could walk home with Marinette and the older boy who always picked her up; apparently there had been a man who hung out in front of the bodega Sally had to walk past and his eyes always followed the young girl too fondly.

“This is my brother!” Marinette grinned proudly to Sally as she and her met Jason in front of the elementary school gates. “His name’s Jason, he’s the best!” And he had been. 

He had always looked out for Marinette— far longer than she could remember; she knew he had been the one to warm her bottles as a baby and that he had been the one to rock her to sleep after a nightmare as a toddler —and he also had always looked out for their mother when she had been alive too; stealing car parts and acting as a lookout for the local dealers so those same men never showed up at their apartment looking for the money she owed them. He had been the first real hero in Marinette’s life, long before he had ever put on the cowl.

He had been her mother and father and brother for the longest of times and now he was dead.

**…**

Marinette shifted in her seat, Adrien’s hair seemed to almost glow under the florescent school lights and Madam Bustier stood in front of the class as Alix went to her seat. It was world heritage week and Marinette had no idea where she came form. 

She knew she had been born in Gotham, that Willis Todd wasn’t her father— that whoever her father had been he was probably dead —and that her mother had maybe, possibly been Italian so she had done her paper on Sabine’s Chinese-Jewish heritage. 

When she had been seven and in the same exact situation back in Gotham, before CPS had found out that she and Jason were on the street by themselves, she had done a report solely on her brother because what more kind of heritage did she need? He was Hispanic through his fathers side; most of the kids in her class were so that wasn’t anything special, no what made her brother special was the fact he could whistle the Hex Girls Earth, Wind, Fire and Air song without breaking for air, and that he knew how to say the alphabet backwards and the names of every football team in the country. 

Her teacher at the time, Mrs. Philips, had failed her because she hadn’t followed the guidelines of the project— her brother didn’t count as her heritage —but at seven and with no idea what her heritage was Jason was the only thing that had made sense to put down.

“Marinette you can come up now.” She gripped her flash cards and USB drive in her hands as she got up from the desk; Alya cheering her on as she walked up to the front of the room, Adrien and Nino clapped as she trotted down the steps, and Kim, in the back of the room, whooped loudly enough Madam Bustier shot him a him a look.

She handed the USB to Max who sat at the computer next to board and smiled at him. Ladybug or not public speaking wasn’t her thing. Jason had always been good at it, smiling as broadly as he could, showing off his teeth to the world daring them to interrupt or saying to him. 

She smiled a toothy grin at the class and as Max pulled up the fifteen slide power point she had made Marinette breathed in deeply. Her heart beat in her chest but just like her brother had taught her, just like she had learned from being Ladybug, she didn’t show her fear, she didn’t let the world know how nervous she really was.

“I did my world heritage on my maman and her Chinese-Jewish heritage.” Lila, from where Max usually say, raised her hand. She didn’t bother to wait to speak, 

“I thought we had to do our reports on out heritage Madam Bustier?” A chill ran up Marinettes spine because the viscous, shark like glint in Lila’s eye told her that she knew. She knew about her being adopted. About Gotham. What else did the evil girl know?

“You did, why?” Madam Bustier blinked at Lila. Marinette saw both Nino and Kim, the only two people in the class who had known her long enough— had been there to welcome to France —to know about Gotham and her parents and Jason. 

Did she know about Jason?

“Oh well, it’s just I don’t think it’s fair Marinette’s doing her project on someone she isn’t related to. I mean, it’s not like that’s her heritage.” Alya, her forever knight in shining armor turned to Lila with a furrowed brow.

“What are you talking about Lila it’s her moms heritage.” _That means it’s her heritage too,_ was unsaid. Lila opened her mouth but Kim, who sat next to her knocked his elbow lightly into hers.

“Knock it off Lila, Sabine is Marinette’s maman.” Lila looked at Kim and smiled innocently; her eyes sharpened though.

“I don’t know Kim, adopted parents aren’t actual parents,” Lila said and the class mumbled among themselves.

“Of course they are,” Alya said, not even missing a beat. She didn’t hesitate. Marinettes chest bloomed with warmth.

“Maybe but this is world heritage week, if we could do a report on someone else’s heritage just because we’re close to them I would have done my report on Jagged Stone or Clara Nightingale,” Lila said. “I mean what’s so bad about Marinette’s own heritage? It’s just Gotham.” 

The classes murmurers got louder at the city’s name. Marinettes heart beat louder in her chest.

“Marinette,” Madam Bustier said, “Perhaps you should tell us about Gotham.”

“But Marinette’s already done a project on her maman!” Nino stood from his seat. How many times had he found her crying over her brother since he had died? How many times had he seen her zone out into an unblinking zombie whenever certain dates rolled around? 

“Maybe I want to hear about your live in Gotham,” Madam Bustier said in a sharp but polite tone of voice. The woman was nothing ever other than polite, was she? Marinette tightened her grip on her note card.

What was there to tell about her life in Gotham besides a dead junkie mother, dead crook father and dead superhero brother? What was there to tell about Gotham in general?

Nothing. 

Batman or his Robins did ever made a real difference; he wasn’t a real hero anyway, he had let her brother die. Marinette could tell how when she had been five, before her father had left she and Jason had found themselves in the middle of a drive by and how a boy Jason’s age had been gunned down in front of them. 

No matter how hard Jason had pressed her against his chest she could still hear the boy’s bleeding body hitting the ground and her brothers breathing hitch. She could smell the burning rubber of the tires as the shooters road off the street and she could still feel the cold January air biting into her skin.

Perhaps she wanted to know about the Riddler and Clayface and Scarecrow and how her Social Worker had apparently been driven crazy by the Joker. Perhaps she wanted to know what you had to do survive if you weren’t Bruce Wayne.

“I don’t want to,” Marinette said in a tight voice, the only person she ever spoke to about Gotham anymore was Chat, and that was only on special nights. “I did my world heritage project—“

“—But it’s not really your heritage is it?” Lila called out from the back, Alya glared over her shoulder and before she could snap at the brunette girl Adrien had. 

“Leave Marinette alone, you’re not being a nice friend at the moment,” he told her, turning around in his chair. Lila smiled tersely at the teen model.

“I’m just saying—“

“Well stop it,” Adrien told her, “It’s not nice.” He turned around in his chair and smiled kindly at Marinette. She returned it weakly.

Breathing she looked down at her card. “My maman—”

“—Marinette,” Madam Bustier cut in, “I would like to hear about Gotham.”

“I don’t want to.”

“We all have to do things we don’t want to in life; remember what I said about the Marinette’s of the world?” She did and if Jason was alive he would call Madam Bustiers Marinette of the world spiel crap.

But he wasn’t and Marinette had to live her life without him. So she bowed her head and sighed. Nino and Kim, when Marinette looked up could be seen glaring at Madam Bustier and Lila from the corners of their eyes.

“My dad worked so he wasn’t around much, he died when I was five. My mom was sick too so she wasn’t around my either, she died when I was six.” It was better than saying her mom was an addict and her father was in and out of jail, it was the sanitized version.

“So how did you take care of yourself?” Madam Bustier wondered, “You were only a child so if your mother was in the hospital—“ who had said anything about a hospital, “—And your father was working who took care if you?” 

“My brother,” Marinette said. “Jason.” Adrien straightened up in his chair, he leaned forward on his elbows. “He was six years older than me, he cooked me dinner every night and made sure my homework was done and—” There was tears in her eyes, “He was the coolest.”

She had to calm down, she couldn’t be akumatized. Marinette clenched her fist.

“Maman and Papa adopted me when I was seven, they were my first foster family, they let him see me whenever either of us wanted. He used to walk me to school and walk me home and some nights he would sleep over and he used to be on Papa’s team for family game night because we couldn’t be on the same team and he do handstands and he used to put me on his shoulders so I could touch the ceilings and—“ Marinette was not calming herself down. She bit her tongue to stop from crying. She tucked her chin against her sternum and shut her eyes tightly. 

No one in the room the spoke.

She looked up, her throat was tight. “He died when I was eleven, the Joker killed him, wrong time wrong place. I—” Marinette placed the flashcard that were still in her left hand against Madam Bustiers desk, “—I need to go to the bathroom, excuse me.”

She didn’t wait for Madam Bustier to give her the pass, behind her, as she ran, she could hear the teacher telling Alya to sit down, Alya shot something back at Madam Bustier only to be drowned out by Nino and Adrien and Kims raised voices as they yelled at Lila. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes ghosts haunt us, and sometimes our hearts, old and broken like an abounded home, opens it’s door for ghost because sometimes being haunted is better than being alone.

Jason Todd is six when he holds his sister for the first time. It’s in Gotham Generals maternity ward and he’s next to his mothers hip when she passes him a swaddled up blanket of pink fabric and red skin and he’s six when he first looks into his sisters sky blue eyes.

He has them too, it’s a trait they get from their mother- their thick black hair comes from her too -and six year old Jason Todds heart feels like it’s going to burst as he picks out ways to connect himself to the baby in his arms.

They both have almost-not there freckles adorning their noses and they both have cupid brow lips.

His father had left after the birth, he hadn’t held Marinette— her name was Marinette and Jason called her Mari when he introduced himself as the best big brother in the world —and Jason isn’t sure if he ever wants to let go so his father can hold her when he dose eventuality come back because no matter how much the man leaves he always finds his way back into their third floor apartment.

“I see the big brother is in the house!” The nurse, a skinny Hispanic woman with a tight bun of curls atop her head grinned as she walked into the room. Her teeth her almost impossibly white.

Catherine Todds nails lazily scrape against Jason’s scalp from behind and the young boy giggles. He beams, brighter than his mother could ever remember seeing him smile,

“I’m going to be the best big brother ever!”

> **…**

Jason is nine when he sat Marinette on her bed— his is parallel to hers and getting to small —so he can tie her shoes.

Marinette’s wearing what their mother had gotten from a friend she shoots up with, who got them from a friend who had years ago bought them second hand, therefore really making them fifth hand, but neither Marinette or Jason cared about the hole in the knee or the fraying cuffs of her pink jeans or the mysterious stain on the back of her shirt that she kept covered with one of Jason’s old sweatshirts because it was her first day of school and they were both excited.

Jason loved school and learning and reading what the schools small, underfunded library would lend him. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t in the top of his class— how could he be when there were days he had had to stay home to take care of a sickly Marinette because Willis wouldn’t and their mother was gone again, or because Willis was in jail and someone needed to settle their mothers scores with the local drug dealers before they came to the apartment and things got ugly and Marinette was put in danger —because he knew Marinette would be top of hers.

She was smart and Jason knew he’d sit with her and to do her homework every night and even on the days he couldn’t go himself he knew he would still walk her to and from to make sure she got home and to school safety. Jason knew she would excel where he couldn’t.

He would make sure of it, because even if he was going be another forgotten Gotham casualty Marinette wouldn’t be. She was going to make it out.

> **…**

There was this diner on the corner of Greenway and Chambers in the slums of Gotham, just before one would get into Crime Alley territory, that was open twenty four seven. The paint on the outside was chipped and what wasn’t chipped had faded from a sterling white to a disgusting gray and what hadn’t faded or chipped had been covered in graffiti. The tables and booths on the inside of the dinner were all as old as the retirement age waitresses who worked there but on nights where it rained or snowed it was the diner Jason and Marinette would buy a plate of fries with the little money they had scrounged or stolen from the streets and wait out the storm in.

There’s a park three blocks away from the diner, in Crime Alley territory that no one would ever let their children play in because of the dealers that did their business just twenty feet away but in that park there was an old and rusted jungle gym that had a slide with a cover and on nights it was warm enough Marinette and Jason would stick their heads outside the slide and try to spot the stars twinkling behind the Gotham smog.

> **…**

Jason is fifteen when he dies and Marinette is nine. Back before she had moved to Paris and back before she had gone to a nicer Gotham school after Sabine and Tom had adopted her, Marinette used to hear her classmates talking about the funerals they had gone too. Sally Jackson’s brother had been killed by the Penguin and Louis Rodriguez’s mother had been murdered by the Black Mask and his men after seeing something she shouldn’t have— Louis himself had died three weeks after that in a hit in run no one could prove was done on purpose —and though she hadn’t gone to her own mothers funeral in fear of CPS finding her and Jason and splitting them up Marinette thought she knew what she was going to experience.

She hadn’t. There was no way she could of prepared herself enough to look down a church isle and see a long, polished oak box next to a picture of her brothers smiling face. There was no way she could of prepared herself to actually see where her brothers _corpse_ was.

Marinette was small and shaking as she stands in front of her brothers nice and expensive oak casket. The casket was closed and when Marinette had asked her papa if they could open it so Marinette could place the teddy bear Jason had long ago stolen for her— so he wouldn’t be alone —next to him her adoptive father had sniffled; her maman had choked out a sob and they had both said they couldn’t but no one had told her why.

At fifteen Marinette could understand why; the excuse Bruce Wayne had given her and her parents was the Joker had blown up the building Jason was in- that he was just another causality in a never ending war between the clown and the Bat -for no other reason than the Joker had wanted to explode a building that day, but Marientte knew there was more truth to that, that her brother had been Robin and there had been a reason he had died.

She knew at fifteen what a closed casket funeral meant.

> **…**

After World Heritage week everything came to light; Marinette was sure Lila said something she had no business saying in front of strangers despite the non-existent proof she had on that claim.

The fact her mother hadn’t just been sick but a junkie who had overdosed while she and Jason had been at school was out and everyone in school knew it within an hour. They also knew that her father hadn’t just been too busy working to take care of her and her brother but a petty crook that was too busy in and out of jail; and in Gotham it wouldn’t have meant much that her parents were what lay at the bottom of the barrel but Paris wasn’t Gotham.

Her classmates hadn’t looked at her differently, Alya still linked arms with her and Nino still threw his arm over her shoulder and Ivan still placed his hand on top of her head because he was just that big— though Adrien who almost hadn’t seem surprised at any of the news about her past did seem to hang around her more —but other students did treat her differently.

Claude, the class representative, from the grade above them kept his hands in his pockets when he spoke to her during the meetings and always patted himself down afterwords to make sure he had everything. Mirille offered to donate her old clothes to Marinette just in case she needed them and Jean-Paul a boy she had never actually spoken too had told her that she could come to the house party his older brother was throwing of she brought her own stuff.

He was the boy she had hit; it’d been at lunch and he had come up to her table— Adrien had stopped mid-joke to look at boy who leaned in just to close to Marinette for anybody’s liking —and smiled.

“Marinette right?” The boy had wondered rhetorically. “I’m Jean.” Marinette narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the boy; Alya’s lips pressed together and Ninos brows raised, ever since _someone_ had let her past spill people had been coming up to her, Adrien shuffled closer to her side. All she wanted was be left alone, to forget the Joker and Gotham and the other villains and most certainly Batman and sidekick.

“My brother Philip is in university and he’s throwing a party and he said I could invite a few friends,” Jean-Paul told.

“Okay?” Marinette raised a brow. They weren’t friends, they hadn’t actually ever spoken before.

“And I was thinking,” Jean-Paul continued, “That as long as you brought your own stuff—”

“—My own what?” Marinette hissed dangerously. Though apparently not dangerously enough because the boy continued,

“And I got a cut because, you know, it’d be my house and my broth-” the boy hit the ground with a resounded thud. Marinette, baring over him, didn’t snarl at him but she did feel her lip twitch upwards.

“I don’t do drugs,” she snapped, the boys elbows slipped underneath him and the lunchroom around them fell into a hush, “I don’t sell them either. Leave me alone.”

“Look—” the boy tried to speak. Alya stood and she tried to reach over and touch Marinettes shoulder to calm her down, but the tiny girl jerked her body away.

She bent down and with all her strength she picked the boy up by the front of his shirt; the tops of the boys feet were flat against the floor and his knees were bent awkwardly and he quivered under Marinettes blazing glare.

“No you look! The next time you or someone else asks me about Gotham or the Joker or they try to talk to me about being poor or so help me— the next time someone tries to talk to be about drugs —I’ll show you what a girl from Crime Alley can really do, got it?” The boy whimpered with a nod. Marinette dropped him.

She didn’t look at her friends or anyone else in the lunchroom— not even a smirking Lila —as she grabbed her bag and stormed home; her mind whirling.

> **…**

The only thing of Willis Todds Jason had taken was the mans old but still thick leather jacket. It was, besides his worn copy of A Midsummer Nights Dream, the only other thing of Jason’s Marinette had taken after the funeral.

The day after having hit the boy in the lunchroom, with her hair pulled back into a high ponytail, Marinette wore it to school. She still wore her signature pink jeans but she’d traded the floral shirt and flats she usually paired with them in for an old Hex Girls t-shirt and sneakers.

Marinette Todd had never been dead, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng was never intended to be the former replacement so that morning, arm in arm with Alya and side by side with Nino and Adrien, _Marinette T. Dupain-Cheng_ walked into Françoise Dupont.

**Author's Note:**

> @bannananorie for more marinette todd au stuff


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